


5 Times Natasha Romanov Rescues The Avengers

by xocean



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: 5 + 1, BAMF Natasha, Bonding, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Natasha & Avengers friendship, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Natasha-centric, No Smut Sry Guys, Protective Natasha, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-04-23 05:30:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4864862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xocean/pseuds/xocean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>... In more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Damsel in Distress

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell that I'm procrastinating 'tell me baby, do you recognize me?' :p Also, can you tell how much I ship Tony & Natasha's friendship?
> 
> This 6-chapters work has been finished, and will be posted chapter by chapter daily. If you like it, don't forget to comment! Happy reading, lovelies.

1.  **Tony Stark** **  
**

Natasha neatly takes out the one remaining henchman who's stupid enough to raise his gun at her, vaults over the upturned table and tries not to smirk.

"Not one word, Natasha." Tony glowers at her.

"I wasn't going to, but now that you've said I can't..." Natasha strides over to the cell he's locked in.

"They couldn't have sent some lowly SHIELD agent to do this?" Tony moans.

" _We don't need the whole team on this guys, Iron Man got this, solo_." Natasha mocks him under her breath, choosing to pick the lock as opposed to simply shooting it open, which would attract attention they didn't currently need.

"I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I."

"You know, for someone who got captured by HYDRA you sure are pretty chipper." The lock gives way and Natasha steps inside. "What's the damage?"

"Nothing," Tony says. Natasha slowly turns her head to him. He backtracks. "My ankle's twisted. And I think my arm's kind of, fractured? It's nothing I can't walk on, though."

Natasha nods once. "The suit?"

Tony suddenly looks dark and angry. He nods to the corner of the cell. "It's no use now. They had an EMP that almost fried the entire thing before I could activate the Legion -"

Natasha has been crouching over the abandoned, cold suit, but at his words, she whips around. "EMP?"

"Electro-magnetic pulse, c'mon Natasha I know you're not -"

"Your reactor?" Natasha cuts him off sharply.

Tony falls silent. He glances down at his chest where, Natasha notes with more clarity, his reactor is flickering every now and then.

"I think I've got about an hour on it." Tony says too-casually.

Natasha glares at him. She turns back to the suit, feeling in her belt for a tiny magnetic disc that would temporarily reactivate the suit.

"It's no use," Tony repeats sullenly behind her, "It needs a jumpstart. Or a new reactor. Trust me, I -"

Natasha locates the central core of the the suit, uses her fingers to pry open the protective casing and clicks the disk before sliding it inside. The suit powers up to life.

"-  _Or.._ it just needs a superspy with super cool super gadgets. I need to work on that whole EMP-resistance thing," Tony says thoughtfully.

Natasha pivots, rolling her eyes. "Time to go, Tony."

She helps him up from the ground, not commenting on the way Tony puts his body weight on his left foot and carefully not jostling his right arm. Tony makes it about two steps when he gives up and simply reaches out his good hand.

"JARVIS," Tony says, and the suit obligingly breaks itself into pieces, reassembling around Tony's body. Natasha holds on to his waist long enough for the suit to assemble around him, and when she's sure he's steady, she lets go.

"Alright," Tony says in his robot-amplified voice, flexing the fingers of his good hand. The blaster on that hand powers up with that familiar noise Natasha has strangely come to find comforting. He aims it at the wall beside them and fires, leaving a hole for them to leave through. Tony prepares for takeoff and visibly stumbles.

" _Romanov, you've got incoming._ " Maria says over her comm. " _Five men, armed._ "

"You came in without backup?" Tony's amplified voice says semi-incredulously.

" _It turned into a sensitive case when you got captured. HYDRA's eyes are on the Avengers. Agent Romanov volunteered."_  Maria explains shortly. " _Romanov, three minutes._ "

Natasha presses her comm. "I'm on it." She moves, grabbing a gun for each hand from her holster. "Tony get out of here."

"What?" Tony flips up his plate. "We're both getting out of here. Come on, chop chop." He reaches out a hand to her.

"Job's not done yet. You need to go." She pointedly flicks her eyes down to his reactor.

Tony makes a frustrated noise even as the reactor flickers. "I'm not leaving -"

"Get out!" Natasha lunges, pushing Tony out of the hole in the wall because suddenly, they're being shot at.

She twists around, firing rapidly, hoping that Tony could at least fly without stumbling. The men here are much smarter than the ones that had been guarding Tony, and Natasha finds herself running out of bullets. She twists her legs around one man's body, using him to take the bullets the others are firing at her.

" _Romanov!"_  Tony practically screams at her over their comms. " _Don't you dare move your ass, I'm coming back now -_ " There's an odd machine-like sound, a gasp and sounds of Tony struggling to breath. And then - nothing.

"JARVIS - override protocols and take him home _now_ ," Natasha grits out, rolling out under a body. She grabs the fallen man's gun and fires without hesitation. "Tony you get your ass back and  _stay there_  or so help me god -"

" _Overriding protocols._ " JARVIS' voice says smoothly. Tony does not reply.

Natasha ends up taking out the lot and cleaning out HYDRA's hard disks before calling in SHIELD's clean-up team to take care of the criminals. It takes a while, but eventually she checks in with Maria for a ride back to the tower. The QuinJet lands in the clearing outside the building just as Natasha walks out, peeling her gloves from her hands.

Tony is quite predictably in the cockpit with a brighter arc reactor that glows blue through his shirt. He doesn't say anything to her, but he does watch her with a somewhat stubborn look on his face, and there's a big cold bottle of Coke in the co-pilot's seat.

"You wanna fly this one solo, too?" Natasha asks innocently, dropping into the seat.

"Not  _one_  word."

* * *

 


	2. Strike Team Delta

2.  **Clint Barton** **  
**

"...together after a year of progress, missions, and neverending paperwork."

This gets a laugh out of the crowd. Natasha manages a halfhearted smile as Maria Hill continues on the podium. Natasha always forgets how much she dislikes going to SHIELD's company dinners. And don't get her wrong on this. She supposes its nice, seeing other agents she doesn't often see anymore, and the food is always delicious - tonight had been a great smoked salmon with buttery potatoes, among other things - and, well, the after-party that just a select few agents always throw afterwards is always enjoyable.

Natasha just always forgets how  _boring_  these things could get. Particularly when, as a senior agent, she is expected to sit with the high-ups of SHIELD. Between their professional air and polite conversations about current affairs and politics, Natasha would much rather just go back to the Tower. Its a Friday night. Pepper and Tony had waved her and Clint goodbye behind a tall stack of pizza boxes as they left earlier.

But Natasha isn't complaining. She's a professional, and more importantly, she's the Black Widow. The fearsome Black Widow of SHIELD does not complain.

Still, the least they could have done was keep her and Clint's seats together.

Natasha leans back and turns her head towards Clint's direction. He's slouched over in his seat, tie already loosened, with his chin in his palm and a glassy look directed to the podium.

Natasha suspects this is Fury's doing. Sure, at the last company dinner, Natasha had egged Clint into a drinking game, resulting in Clint getting plastered and attempting to hug one of the senior directors. But could they really be faulted for that? Besides, the director had found it funny. Natasha thinks separating her partner from her was a bit overkill, not to mention extremely childish. What is this, middle school? They are professional spies.

Clint suddenly looks up at her. He leans back in his chair and raises his hands to sign at her.  _I'm dying. They're killing me._

Natasha has learned, among other things, sign language. This is a direct result of being around Clint.

She hides a smile and signs back.  _Wanna ditch?_

Clint makes a sad face.  _Hill said we have to stay._

 _Since when do you care what Hill says?_  Natasha is amused.

 _Since Fury backed her up on it._  Clint mimes slitting his throat.

Natasha smothers a chuckle and then she's sitting up, straight and alert, because a weirdly tense hush has fallen over the crowd. Maria has left the podium and is walking towards her chair with a displeased look that's uncharacteristic for her, at the annual dinner, anyway. Behind her, senior director Beemer is taking the podium.

Beemer stands in front of the podium, hands folded in a somber manner, and behind him, on the screen, is a slideshow with a bold black headline: Remembering The Fallen.

With a tightening knot in her chest, Natasha immediately knows the reason behind the hush and Maria's look. Phil. It was inevitable.

"We have achieved many great things together," Beemer starts slowly, effectively killing the mood, "and while it is prudent we recognize and celebrate these accomplishments, it is also important that we recognize our trusted colleagues who have fallen in the line of duty."

Natasha turns her head. Clint's face is stony, and his entire body looks frozen. He would do this to himself, Natasha knows, Clint would take the salt and rub it into his wounds even if it wasn't his fault.

 _Go,_  Natasha signs to him.  _I'll cover for you._

Clint simply blinks at her.

 _Leave now_ , Natasha signals with more urgency. Beemer is almost done with his prelude.

 _I should stay_ , Clint signs back. His movements are a little uncertain.

 _No._  Natasha knows, she has seen what this can do to Clint, despite it being more than a year of Phil's passing. This will reopen Clint's spiralling.  _Go now. I'll cover._

Clint raises his hands and starts to signal.  _But I -_

 _I don't care,_  Natasha signs furiously.  _Just get out._

_What if they notice?_

_They won't._  Who does he think she is?  _In 3._

Suddenly, Natasha's phone vibrates on her lap. It's a text message.

**Cut it the fuck out, strike team delta.**

Natasha catches Clint's eye just as he looks up from his own phone, and they simultaneously look to the front.

Fury, with an arm slung over Hill's seat, is glaring at them.

Clint slowly raises his hands and signals,  _Oops._

Fury's glare deepens.

Natasha ignores this, turns back to Clint. She nods once, then abruptly stands up and walks towards the restrooms with enough noise and body action that she draws most of the attention. Midway, she executes a believable stumble, with a convincing flail of her arms and just enough  _oops, I'm embarrassed_  in her expression. Somebody catches her arm and steadies her. 

"He's gone," Fury mutters under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the dynamics of Fury, Natasha and Clint together, you guys have no idea. Let me know if you liked/disliked this one! Next chapter: Cap.


	3. Ginger and Rogers

3.  **Steve Rogers**

It really isn't none of Natasha's business, but she finds Steve's confession a remarkably curious thing. _And_ its 2.30 in the morning. Conversations that take place in the Tower's kitchen at this hour always call for a little more honesty and depth. And when it comes to nightmares - well, Natasha doesn't think she could talk about it in any other setting than now, which is why she had given Steve a little leeway when she had entered the kitchen, sweating and thirsty, and found him sitting at the island counter with a similar expression to hers.

Natasha asks him, with pure curiosity, "Dancing?"

Steve stares at her for a moment, then his face relaxes into something more... faraway and fond. "Well, we didn't have internet back in the day," he joked, resting his forearms on the counter. "Back then, it was dancing."

"You know how to dance?" Natasha asked next, because she's already picturing him in a smart suit, twirling around a woman with shiny dark brown hair who resembles Peggy Carter.

"Not well," Steve admits, "I can do a really... slow waltz."

Natasha tries to picture this, too, and fails. The image isn't very serene or gentle, not the way waltzes are. For some reason, she keeps picturing Steve with his helmet on, barking out orders like he does on the battlefield.

"Show me," Natasha says, curling her hands around her warm mug.

"Right now?" Steve says halfheartedly, but he's already standing up. He pushes his stool back inside and takes a few steps back into the open kitchen space before turning to Natasha expectantly. "Takes two to tango, Nat."

She gets up, rolling her eyes lightheartedly, and allows herself to be gently swept up in Steve's hands while she places her hand in his.

"I warn you, I know next to nothing about this so you might be a little disappointed," Steve sets a disclaimer as he begins to sway them in a circle. "JARVIS, some music?"

" _What would you like, sir?_ " the AI responds.

"Uh," Steve thinks for a moment, eyebrows notching together. "Marvin Gaye, It's Too Late."

The lilting melody starts after a second, and Natasha quirks an impressed eyebrow at him as they sway in a spot. "Wow," she says, "Didn't peg you for the type."

"One of Sam's brilliant recommendations," Steve gives credit easily. "I must say, he wasn't wrong. Okay, now," Steve looks determined, "lets get this waltz going."

Steve leads her around the kitchen with average capacity, but with the best of intentions. Although Natasha notes that he's especially good at twirling her around, the rest of their waltz is what she might nicely call 'cute'.

Steve is aware, as he chuckles after accidentally nudging Natasha's knee with his own. "I had a disclaimer."

"You know, I kind of get the feeling you're not a professional," Natasha tells him.

"Thank you very much, Natasha." Steve says very, very sarcastically.

Natasha smothers her smile as he gives up, and simply sways them together to the music, occasionally (and randomly) twirling her around every now and then.

"So mine's dancing," Steve says as the song goes on. "What's yours?"

Natasha takes a while to answer him. "Guns."

"Guns?"

"Guns. We... I was trained to shoot with both hands."

"I've seen," Steve says gently.

"It's the repetition, I think," Natasha thinks out loud. "I did it over and over. Switch hands, don't let the gun drop, until I got perfect bullseyes, 20 in a row, each hand."

Steve remains silent, and his face is open and non-judgmental. They've stopped swaying.

"Its the memory," Natasha says conclusively. "It just... ticks at my mind sometimes. Like its something I shouldn't know."

"Our entire lives feel like that sometimes." Steve says quietly. "Like we shouldn't know how to do the things we do. But we do - and we do it anyway."

"Hey, now." Natasha lightly squeezes his hand. "Don't get angsty on me, Cap."

Steve blinks at her then smiles a little halfheartedly. "It's just funny, you know? Before - and I mean  _before_ , this was all I wanted. Now... I mean, sometimes, it's just..." He stares off into space. Then he says quietly, "I guess its just too much sometimes."

This is how Steve had been when Natasha had first walked into the kitchen. He'd had a glassy look in his eye, and it had taken Natasha a while to get him to come back from his dream and talk to her lightly. She suspects that the confession about his nightmares came from a darker, sadder place than he's currently letting on, but at least Natasha is here tonight.

She steps back and puts both hands on Steve's shoulders, forcing him to stand up straighter.

"Uh, Nat?" Steve pauses.

"That wasn't even close to a waltz," Natasha says, "That was like, amateur prom dancing."

"Again, thank you so much," Steve says dryly. "But what are you doing?"

She tugs on Steve's arm so his elbow is angled higher. "I'm teaching you. This is a waltz." She readies herself in her position, chin lifted with delicate elegance. "All SHIELD covert ops agents are taught basic ballroom dancing. I happen to know the waltz very well, among other things."

"You've been holdin' out," Steve accuses, but he's half-laughing as Natasha pushes his chin slight upwards. "What others do you know?"

"Left foot back, Rogers," Natasha says instead, smiling slightly. "JARVIS, from the top, please."

It's Too Late starts again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Natasha and Clint have an entire repertoire of dances they learned for their ops. Also, ginger and rogers? Ginger Rogers? Good pun? :))) (Please tell me you noticed and/or laughed.) 
> 
> Next up: everyone's favorite thunder god.


	4. Brother in Arms

4.  **Thor Odinson**

Thor is in a brooding mood, and Natasha is about 90% sure that no one but her has noticed. Thor has a natural, joyful inclination towards anything that even vaguely smells of good fun, and so when Tony, Natasha, and Clint go head to head against him and Steve in a modified, robotic version of beer pong (Tony had made a sound point saying Steve had the serum and Thor is, well, a god - and with Bruce refereeing, as he insists he and alcohol don't mix well), Thor leaps at the game with abandon and genuinely has a good time steadily drinking Tony and Clint under while Natasha lifts shot after shot and doesn't need to state that she's Russian. 

It's only in the aftermath, when Bruce and Steve have retired to bed, Clint and Tony are invariably passed out on the same couch, and Natasha waits for her coffee to brew in an effort to sober up, that she looks up catches Thor staring unseeingly at the TV screen.

Normally, this wouldn't matter. They all have their fair share of zoning out, and Natasha wants to rationalize that Thor is just zoning out. But there's something weird in the blank way his eyes are unfocused, faraway and weary. She would put it down to the alcohol, but she has seen Thor take on two towers of beer and a bottle of vodka and still only stumble slightly, so there must be something else. His expression is at complete odds with the man she saw ten minutes before, who was all booming laughter and cleverly aimed taunts to get Tony to miss. Nevertheless, Natasha doesn't want to presume anything, and so she turns back to the coffee pot.

 _He's just tired_. Natasha brings an extra cup of coffee for Thor and settles down beside a snoring Clint. Thor reaches for his mug with a wide grin of thanks to her, and Natasha focuses on the random reality TV show Thor had switched on. A second later her eyes flick back to Thor - and he's staring off into his mug now. Natasha knows how to read people, and most importantly she knows how to read her friends, so she knows that by the set of Thor's mouth, he isn't zoning out.

"Everything okay, Thor?" Natasha asks lightly.

"Yes," Thor answers in a low rumble. And then a moment later, so faintly that Natasha knows it isn't meant for her to hear, "Yes."

A few days pass and Natasha's scrutiny of Thor only increases in intensity. The thing is, Natasha muses, Thor isn't someone Natasha can shield with her bare hands, or sit down and open her closetful of skeletons to. She could, of course, Natasha could and would if it came down to it - but it is a simple, indisputable fact that Thor is a god. He is centuries old, and has seen more life, love, and death than Natasha can ever dream of seeing. How can she ever dream of easing the kind of pains that sort of life brings him?

So what now, Natasha wonders as she finds Thor with his back to her, hands gripping the windowsill tightly at 6.00 in the morning.

"Breakfast?" Natasha says, breezing in like she hasn't spent the last minute staring at Thor's tensed back.

He turns to her, spots the Poptarts she's pulling out of the cupboard, and beams at her. "You have read my mind, Natasha. I'll get the coffee."

Thor sets to work on the coffee machine as Natasha pulls out the toasted Poptarts on a plate for him. By the time Natasha has pulled out her milk and cereal into a bowl, Thor has more Poptarts in the toaster while he polishes off the first two.

"Usually I'm the only one awake this early," Natasha says, sliding her spoon into her bowl. "Anything important for you today?"

"I do have an appointment with Director Fury today, but nothing important," Thor dismisses, demonstrating how little he cared about Fury and his silly little meetings. Natasha hides a smile. "And why are you always awake so early?"

"Its a habit," Natasha answers. She adds more cereal to her bowl. "I don't even need an alarm."

Thor returns her smile, picking up a still-hot Poptart with his hands. "What will you do after this?"

"I'll be in the gym. Work out a little, put Tony's machines to good use. Maybe spar, if Clint or Steve wake up early enough."

"You do this everyday?" Thor sounds a little amazed.

"Yep."

"Doesn't it, well," Thor thinks, "Bore you? Or even tire you out?"

"Well," Natasha has to think about it now. "Yeah. Mostly. But I can't afford to not be in shape."

"Your will is stronger than mine," Thor salutes her with a Poptart. "Even I cannot make myself lift weights every day."

Natasha laughs a little at this. "Oh alright, its not everyday. Sometimes I cheat and I do yoga instead of lifting."

"Yoga." Thor quirks an eyebrow. "I know of this ancient Indian practice. Are you a master?"

"No," Natasha says decidedly, because honestly there is much for her to learn. "I'm working on it. It helps, though. Flexibility, keeps my core grounded, and... well, just peace, really."

A strange look briefly crosses Thor's features. "Aye, so I have heard."

"So how is Jane?" Natasha inquires to lighten his mood.

This brings a smile to his face. "She's well, thank you. I just spoke to her yesterday, she's quite busy researching... um," Thor scrunches up his eyes, thinking. "A science thing."

"Those damn science things," Natasha shakes her head mock-disapprovingly to laughter from Thor.

So It isn't Jane, and it isn't anything he's preoccupied with. Something in Natasha's head, that weirdly sounds like Clint, is telling her that she's trying to pry into what looks like a perfectly good, emotionally sound man for no reason. "I'm headed to the gym now," Natasha leaves Thor an opening. "If you want to come down and spar, or something."

Thor smiles at her, but shakes his head gently - and a little sadly. "I would have one more moment to myself, Natasha."

Natasha inclines her head and leaves, feeling slightly troubled. She puts that away, in the back of her mind, intent on getting Steve to ask Thor about whatever it is that's bugging Thor, because even if Thor himself doesn't say anything it doesn't mean nothing was actually going on - Natasha's gut feelings were rarely wrong. But the feeling stays there, behind missions and paperwork and it occasionally resurfaces at times like when she catches Thor with his eyebrows drawn together at the bar one night, or him sitting in the dark quietly for hours after coming back from a productive visit at the children's hospital, which Thor usually loves.

It all goes to head one day, when they're in the middle of battling a group of rogue mercenaries in Kenya. Its a fairly simple assignment, and between the 5 of them (minus Bruce that day) they handled it within two hours, tops, including infiltration and recon. Natasha finishes off her lot fairly quickly and darts around the building, searching for her teammates, until she turns a corner and Thor has about 6 mercenaries pressing him to the wall.

Usually, Natasha doesn't bother. Because it's Thor, and she's better off looking for Clint or Bruce. But today, she watches him fight them, wielding the Mjolnir with an unusual slowness, because there's an expression of utmost detached tiredness on his face that takes her breath away. The mercenaries were tiring out, but Thor was steady, of course - although this doesn't seem to be his intent. Natasha's comm pricks up with Tony's voice - he and Clint are pressed - and Natasha makes her decision without thinking.

She vaults over a passed out body and distracts one of the men fighting Thor.

"Get going, Thor!" She cuts out sharply at him, flicking her Bite on the man and swiftly moving on to the next. At her words, Thor seems to rouse - and then the remaining four men are done in a matter of seconds, lightning flickering around his hammer.

Natasha turns to him. "I don't know what's going on with you," she says lowly, "But Clint and Tony need our help." She doesn't wait for him and stalks off to find her other teammates. Thor joins her in a while, and although he fights with renewed vigor, he doesn't look at her for the rest of the trip.

Natasha is torn between confrontation and avoidance, but today had cut a little close for her. And while her primary instinct is confrontation, Natasha gets the feeling that she has interrupted Thor in deep thought. Nevertheless, Natasha realizes they both need time to lick their wounds, so she backs off and keeps to the back of their Quinjet, and heads to bed early.

The next morning, when Natasha folds her legs together on the yoga mat at 6.30 a.m., she feels more than sees Thor padding across the room to sit in front of her. She lets the silence linger until Thor speaks first.

"I have grown tired," Thor rumbles quietly, "Of my problems. I know very well what they are, and how I can solve them, but I have grown tired."

Natasha breathes in deeply. "Loki?"

"Among other things." Thor says with a nod. His gaze is direct on her, calm and not at all offensive. "The Allfather, Jane, my brother's sceptre. And only last week I received news of an interstellar battle in Xandar. I have many problems, Natasha, but I know that the solution to every one of them will come in due time."

"You're just tired," Natasha realizes as she says it. "Of having them on your mind all the time."

"It is difficult sometimes." Thor bows his head. "But it's not right to wallow in. You were right yesterday."

There's silence between them, but there's also a lightness in the atmosphere between them. Natasha gets the distinct feeling that despite what Thor has unloaded on her, he isn't pressuring her to come up with a solution or comforting words. It is simply that - an unloading of feelings.

"Yoga," Natasha says finally, "can be calming."

Thor looks up slowly. "Aye."

"You don't need to be able to bend and twist your body, not right away, anyway." Natasha continues. "It builds up, from small, gentle movements to bigger, endurance-testing positions. Its calming because you're taking yourself through it, one step at a time. " Natasha pauses. "All in due time."

"I suppose," Thor says, sitting up bigger and taller than ever in front of her. He watches her folded legs, then mimics it right down to his palms resting on his knees. "That we will begin with breathing."

Natasha nods. "Close your eyes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just have to say that this was my favorite chapter to write among all the others. I just adore the thought of Thor and Natasha perceiving and understanding each other on an intellectual, physical level - and being able to beat each other at beer pong while at it.
> 
> Last of the men next: Bruce.


	5. Party Animal

5.  **Bruce Banner**

Bruce has put in his best efforts in making this Tuesday pass as quietly as possible. His efforts include coming down early to the lab, disrupting a few bots in Tony's workshop to distract the man, as well as purposely undoing done work in order to create a larger workload for himself. Despite all of Bruce's wishful setbacks, Tony meanders down to the lab in the evening, gently tells Bruce "It was a good try", and then proceeds to throw Bruce a party with a 2-hour notice.

"Happy birthday, Doc." Natasha wishes him, sweeping into the foyer in a stunning navy dress.

Bruce's response is to groan at her. Clint comes in behind her and starts singing the birthday song, and then Thor joins him and Bruce eventually puts his head in his hands.

"Are you trying to embarrass me to death?" Bruce asks Tony, who comes in with Pepper looking impeccable in a flowing red dress. "Because that might actually work, you know. I might die."

"Oh come on, it's not that bad." Tony holds out an appeasing hand. Behind him, Steve joins them and makes a beeline for Bruce.

He claps Bruce's shoulder. "Happy birthday, Bruce."

Bruce presents Tony with the most withering look Natasha has ever seen on him. "I will die."

"No, no I promise you won't. You're gonna have fun. Come on." Tony turns around and, Natasha notes with fascination, actually does a silent headcount on all of them, his mouth moving soundlessly. "Alright, time to celebrate our rage machine!" Tony sweeps over to the big, shiny closed doors and pushes them open dramatically. Everyone else follows him into the large hall, already filled with people and music, with Pepper silently mouthing 'I'm sorry about this' at Bruce on her way in.

Bruce puts on a brave smile that lasts the entire duration of any conversation he has, and then it promptly slips off to something less brighter. Natasha suspects that Bruce actually appreciates Tony's move deep inside, but simply doesn't know how to handle it. Not to mention, being the centre of attention in a room of 30-something people mustn't be an easy task for a man who usually strives to be out of the way and, well, out of sight.

"I'm too old for this," Bruce mutters, coming into her and Clint's corner for respite after a while.

"It'll all be over soon," Clint says soothingly.

"Yeah, it's only been, uh," Natasha checks her watch. "One hour. There, just two more hours to go."

"We're supposed to do this for three hours?" Bruce sounds just a little horrified.

"Hey, its a Tony Stark party." Clint points his champagne flute at Bruce to make a point.

"It's a minimum three hours kinda thing." Natasha shrugs.

"My dearest friends and acquaintances," Tony says just then into a microphone. "If I may have your attention."

"Oh god." Bruce says. Then he steps forward, smiling a little abashedly at the people who are looking at him with smiles on their faces.

"Tonight," Tony says with flair, "We have gathered here to celebrate someone who is," Tony pauses for dramatic effect. "A vital part of my daily, working life." Pepper stands behind him, shooting Bruce apologetic looks. "Indeed," Tony continues, "Bruce Banner is one of the very few people I would ever trust with my lab - and most importantly, my workshop."

Natasha turns to Clint, her lips pressed tightly together in an effort to not break out in laughter. Clint, however, is guffawing as quietly as he can, clearly having fucked all thoughts of public image.

"... a renowned scientist and a doctor with extensive capabilities," Tony is saying. "And you my friend - you deserve all of this and more. Happy birthday, Bruce Banner."

Applause breaks out in the room and suddenly Steve is wheeling in a huge cake in the shape of a fist. The cake is done in a way that can convince anyone that its simply a fist bump, and Natasha is thankful that Tony had the sense to not make it green. Thor casually swaggers up to the cake and seemingly summons the Mjolnir out of nowhere. With a little show, he uses lightning to light the candles.

"Wow," Natasha finds herself saying, because the entire thing is actually really impressive.

"Can't wait to see what Tony does for my birthday." Clint says, nodding.

The party resumes after Bruce abashedly cuts the cake - Tony insists on pictures, and then declares an open bar, which is really when the party starts. Pepper comes to find Natasha after Tony drags Bruce off to meet some scientist or other, and they spend the night with free flowing drinks and crowd-watching.

"Who are half of these people?" Natasha wonders, martini in hand.

Pepper has a margarita in her own hand. "Scientists, some in R&D. Tony wanted to introduce Bruce to them."

Natasha looks over, amused. "And the other half?"

Pepper suddenly looks mischievous. "All wonderful women. Wonderful, single women working in STEM."

Natasha is grinning. "Was it you?"

"God, no," Pepper laughs, "I wouldn't dream of interfering like that. No, this is all Tony."

"So far he's been left alone, though." Natasha points out.

"Well, the night is still young." Pepper drains her margarita and signals for another. "Do you think it'll actually work?"

Natasha thinks about it and shrugs. "I don't know, but I'm leaning on a no. Bruce already wants to go," Natasha laughs a little as Pepper boos her. "I don't think he'd feel comfortable flirting in this environment."

"Oh well," Pepper says wistfully, "I guess there's always Steve."

They turn their heads to where Steve is by the windows with a woman. He's smiling at her, but keeps a comfortable distance between them, and his body language is a little awkward. Natasha and Pepper share a raised eyebrow and turn away from him.

"I'll drink to that," Natasha toasts.

An hour and a half passes and eventually Pepper leaves the dancing throng with Tony in tow and finds Natasha, who's at the pool table with Steve, Thor, and a few other guests of Tony's.

"I think," Tony says to their group at large, "That we need to help Bruce."

They turn around in unison. Bruce is at the bar, looking effectively cornered by a a group of women. He has a polite smile on, and he's laughing every now and then, but Natasha can clearly see him edging backwards into the bar. A few more steps and his back is going to be digging into the counter.

"Ah," Thor observes, "Not it."

They all turn back to look at him.

Thor raises an unimpressed brow at them, leans down and hits a ball straight into a pocket. All while maintaining eye contact.

"Don't lose," Natasha hands her cue stick to Tony and sets off to get Bruce.

He sees her coming and visibly relaxes, waving at her over the other women. Natasha smothers a laugh as she approaches the group with an apologetic smile on her lips.

"I'm so sorry, but I have to steal you for a moment, Bruce." Natasha makes sure to smile at the women, too, then adds, "I hope you didn't forget you owe me a drink."

"Yes, of course," Bruce grins at her, then turns to the women. "We should definitely get in contact about STEM, thank you for coming tonight." There are goodbyes from the women, who take the clear hint (in a good-natured way, which Natasha likes), and then he's linking his arm through Natasha's and leading her to the bar.

"I really do owe you for that one," Bruce tells her gratefully.

"Oh, that was no problem. Consider it my gift to you."

"I accept wholeheartedly," Bruce laughs a little. "In fact, I think I'll accept just about any gift as long as it doesn't come from Tony."

"Come on, Bruce," Natasha nudges him, "You like it."

Bruce pauses to think, glancing around the room. "Well, yeah. Yeah, I do. This is nice, in an oddly extravagant way." He nods. "For all of this, though, only this. I'm looking forward to hitting my bed."

Natasha blinks at him slowly.

Bruce does a double-take. "Oh no. I've seen that look. What are you... what's..."

"Sorry, Bruce." Natasha doesn't sound sorry, not by the way she's smiling a little wickedly. "But there's an afterparty."

Bruce sighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little fun fluffy time to ease off the seriousness of the previous chapter!
> 
> Final Chapter: + 1 Time They Come Get Her


	6. + 1 Time They Come Get Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! This chapter came out a lot more dramatic and intense than I intended, but I hope you like it all the same. Happy reading :)

6\. **Natasha Romanov**

Natasha has had enough experience in the field to discern that she's currently glazing in and out of consciousness. And if Natasha squints her eyes - ignoring the massive, rhythmic pounding at the back of her head - she can somewhat recall that she's currently on duty.

As in, on duty infiltrating a base of Dr. Gerard, who had recently popped up on SHIELD's radar for weapons experimentation until Natasha tracked him down.

"Her head's bleeding," someone says loudly. Even through the haziness of her mind, Natasha can find the note of panic in the person's voice.

She closes her eyes. She can faintly hear sounds of chaos around her - guns are being fired, and there's a strong smell of smoke in the air.

 _Pound. Pound. Pound._ Did her head explode? Is that what's going on?

"We need morphine!" That same voice yells, only now they sound very clearly terrified.

As Natasha slowly fails to fight oblivion, she realizes another deep ache somewhere above her ribs. Oh - Natasha's head hadn't exploded - her heart did.

"Agent Romanov! _Agent Romanov!_ " Hands pat down her shoulders rather roughly. Natasha wants to fucking slap them. "Get me a direct line to AD Hill, _now!"_

Her eyes close.

* * *

When she opens her eyes next, its because there's a sharp prick through her sleeve. She barely has time to process anything before she focuses her gaze, and then she has her fingers sinking deeply into some guy's neck.

Who is he?

He is gasping. Natalia feels like there's something telling her to let go - but his hand moves again and there's that prick on her left arm once more. She sinks her nails into his jugular, trying to rise up on one elbow as he chokes for breath.

The man gasps pitifully. "Hill - send in - she's - attacking -"

Natalia frowns. There's no one else in the area..

She briefly retracts her hand only to slam his head to the ground. He passes out immediately, and something scatters to the ground - its a small, clear device.

Natalia feels too weak and sticky. She collapses back to the ground shakily, only to rise up again when footsteps fall steadily in her direction. _More targets._ Natalia almost feels panic before a cold calmness immediately overtakes her entire body, and a part of her wants to laugh. She is a master of the Red Room. Who can hold her down?

Natalia reaches a shaking hand towards her holster - the _doorak_ had left it there, she thinks, aiming the gun as a body appears in view. She fires in precision.

" _Can anyone copy?_ " Comes a sharp female voice from the little device as she shoots the oncoming targets expertly. Natalia props herself up on her right elbow, trying to reach it. " _Cap incoming in 20!"_

Natalia doesn't know why that word sends a spike through her brain, but it does and she doesn't like it. She tries getting up and manages to pull herself into a sitting position. The effort exerts her too much and she has to close her eyes briefly, gun laxing in her grip as more targets enter her space.

It feels like an eternity, but only a few seconds have passed and then Natalia's eyes are wide open and feral as one of the targets lunges for her gun. She almost wants to smirk as a sudden burst of adrenaline spikes her to her feet, and she raises her gun, quick as lightning, and fires right... at... him.

Only the shot doesn't go through his heart - it rips through his knee and he drops down with a yell, and Natalia focuses her blurry gaze on -

_I know him._

She ignores the impulse and surrenders instead to the more alarming sense of survival in her brain.

"Natasha." The tall man in blue breathes at her while stepping back, blocking her lashing fists with relative ease. "This is not you. You need to -" Natalia takes a chance and lashes her foot powerfully at his temple. He staggers backwards, although its more out of shock than anything. Natalia uses his distraction to catch her own breath, although all she presents to him is a ruthless, cold facade.

" - Come back," the man finishes, seeming unfazed from her blow to his head. He studies her for a minute. "I'm not going to fight you." The man pauses, and he looks a little sad now. "You're my friend."

She freezes in her spot and blinks at him. He stares at her again, then takes a step closer. Natalia uses all the energy she has left to leap off one foot and twist her thighs around his neck. She drags them both to the floor.

He's gasping a little in between her thighs, pulling at them, and Natalia pulls her legs closer with every ounce of strength she has. The man is too strong for her, however, and he pushes her thighs apart and this time goes in for the attack. But his movements are telegraphed and Natalia, while fighting, struggles to remember exactly why she can predict his next moves - even the way his fist flies out but never makes it to the side of her face - because she already knew he's going to do that.

As they battle, the man seems to realize this as well and his style becomes more erractic and random, although its nothing Natalia can't keep up with. She bends her body around him with ease, and watches as his breath catches and now looks at her with a sort of fearful awe.

Natalia leaps around in a way that she somehow knows will make him reach for her foot - he does - and she twists in mid-air, slamming her other foot straight into his face. There is a _crack._ She feels like this is strange, she shouldn't be doing this to him - but she wastes no time and goes in to throw an elbow into his gut.

"Hawkeye -" The man chokes out, twisting away from her aim while blood rushes from his broken nose. "Any - moment - now -"

Natalia suddenly feels something very, very wrong - like there's a predator she has missed all this while, fighting this strange man in blue. Her senses prick up and her head whips around. Her eyes land on a man dangling from the rafters in the ceiling just as she realizes, with the strangest sense of nausea and the feeling that she's experienced this before, that he's using a bow. It is aimed straight at her.

Suddenly, with lightning speed she never sees coming, the man in blue bodily leaps onto her and pins her arms above her head.

And then something pricks deeply into her exposed jugular.

* * *

Clint affects the most bland and expressionless facade that he's had to wear in a long time.

"I recognize that we are in a state of alarm," Clint says, monotone, his voice hiding the rush of anger he was feeling. "And yes ma'm, I know what happened - I was there, in case you forgot."

The woman on the screen purses her lips at him. Beside him, Maria Hill shifts delicately in her seat. A warning. Normally, Clint would laugh it off. Hell, normally Maria would give him a free pass the first two or so times. But today, she's right. He has to rein it in.

Natasha would, for him.

"But what I'm here for is to assure you that what happened was entirely abnormal. A freak accident, so to speak," Clint presses on, not wanting to give the WSC representative space to argue. "Dr. Gerard -" that _bastard_ " - wasn't even aiming to create a biological weapon. He was trying to play with gamma rays." The idiot, the complete fucking idiot - don't these people learn anything?

Maria takes over, most likely sensing his loose control. "You'll find in the file we sent you a report of the weapon he used on Agent Romanov. The weapon was meant to reduce the nerves and cells in one's body to bits and pieces. He hadn't actually developed the weapon fully due to Agent Romanov's intervention," There's a pointedness in her tone that Clint tries not to smile at, "And instead of reducing her brain to nothing, it simply hit some nerves and regressed Agent Romanov's memory. It wasn't even supposed to happen."

"And yet it did, Deputy Hill," the woman returns pointedly.

Maria maintains a a polite, interested expression and says nothing, which Clint admires because his hands are clenching into fists.

He gives the woman another bland smile. "You can find that on the file, too, ma'm."

The woman loses her polite expression. There's dislike on her face now.

"Which I'll be perusing through with a fine tooth comb as soon as I get off this call, agents," the woman says mildly, but with enough threat to make Clint and Maria sit up straighter.

There's a brief pause as they process this.

"With all due respect, ma'm," Clint leans forward, holding back a scowl, "I'm now unclear on the purpose of this call. I was informed that we would be updating you on the current status of Agent Romanov. Which, now that I think about it, you haven't asked a single word of."

"Careful, Agent Barton," the woman replies coldly. "You're heading into dangerous territory."

Clint forces a heady grin onto his face. "I meant no offense, Madam Secretary. While we're on the topic, I'll let you know anyway. Agent Romanov is currently under lockdown and sedated - under your orders. It has been 10 hours."

"And you and your team have fought to keep her in Stark Tower instead of SHIELD's medical bay _against_ my orders," she snaps back, losing her cool facade. "Don't forget that, Agent."

Clint's mighty pleased that he's getting under her skin. "Like we have had to say many times, ma'm - we have better means to treat Agent Romanov there. Dr. Banner is more than capable of medical treatment, and Tony Stark prefers to scan the effects of the weapon in his tower, where his biggest infrastructure is. If you're worried about security, well good morning, I am Agent Clint Barton, codename Hawkeye, and I live with Captain Am -"

"The point being, Agent Romanov is well off there just as she would be here," Hill cuts him off smoothly. Clint leans back, feeling adrenaline thrum in his body. The woman on the screen has lost her semi-polite expression, and is glaring at him coldly. He's probably going to pay for that someday. "And SHIELD will continue to monitor Agent Romanov's progress and report back to the Council. As promised."

"Noted, Deputy Hill. That will go into my report to the Council." The woman eyeballs them both coolly. "And I'll also be taking the time to note that neither of you, with special regards to Agent Barton, are showing any minute concern that one of the top level agents in SHIELD has regressed into her KGB days and could potentially create a national disaster."

A cold sort of silence fills the room as the implications of her words set in. Anger headily flows through Clint's head.

Clint glances at Maria. She's sitting still, but her jaw has gone rigid. Her hands are clenched in her lap. He can't lose his cool, not right now. If he went off on this woman like he reaaally wants to, he wouldn't be the Avengers' representative to the WSC anymore, which, while could be a good thing for Clint's stress levels, is actually a bad idea because fuck knows everyone else is busy enough with their own parts.

But still. Clint is SHIELD's agent, and he's probably been shooting assholes and infiltrating drug rings since before this woman ever picked up a gun. And he's doing this for Natasha.

He looks blankly polite as he can, leaning forward with his fingers interlocking interestedly. "Excuse me, Madam Secretary. I'm not sure what you're implying here."

"Take from that what you will, Agent Barton," the woman assures him, quite poisonously in Clint's opinion.

Maria suddenly heaves a small sigh. "Madam Secretary," she says, "To reiterate Agent Barton's words, this call was a scheduled report on Agent Romanov's -" she delicately stresses the last part "- health progress and status. Which Agent Barton has already done. If there's any speculation on the Council's part on my and Agent Barton's loyalties - well, you'll have to take that up with Director Fury." Maria gives her a small, dry smile. "That's above my paygrade."

Clint deliberately lets out a grin.

The woman on the screen surveys them, very slowly, before nodding. "I'll be doing that, Deputy Hill. We'll be in contact. Agent Barton."

"Madam Secretary." Clint says, monotone.

"Good day." Maria says a bit more professionally. The screen goes blank. They sit there quietly for a few seconds, then Maria sighs. "God, Barton. Why does the Council hate the Avengers so much?"

"Rhetorical question," Clint mutters. He rubs his temples, then looks up to flash Maria a grin. "All things considered, I'd say that went pretty well."

Maria stares at him.

* * *

"Rumors?" Thor affects a politely puzzled face, quirking an eyebrow at the reporter in front of him. "Forgive me, I know not what these rumors are that you speak of."

He watches the reporter hesitate. These reporters, Thor thinks, can be very easy to read sometimes. Of course, Tony attributes this to the fact that Thor is the media darling and they love pleasing him, which really, is not Thor's fault in his humble opinion. He likes to hold that over Tony sometimes, suggesting that perhaps Tony should consider shadowing Thor in his media relations adventures and learn a thing or two (Natasha and Steve often jump on this to egg Tony on) but the truth is, Thor's charisma was perhaps only half of it.

The real deal was how easy it is to adhere to their expectations of him - that Thor is a clueless, medieval alien god - for Thor's own advantage. In the beginning Thor had been rather surprised and amused by their mental image of him, but he found that playing his strengths to get what he wanted was something Thor was too good at. Natasha had called it public relations.

Natasha, who is currently lying unconscious in their Tower, with lips pale as sheets and fitful nightmares.

"Well," one of them, a gentleman with glasses on, begins hesitantly. "There are rumors floating around - about one of your teammates?"

Thor shifts into a curiously polite look. And waits.

"The Black Widow," the man continues.

"Ah yes," Thor lets himself smile. The cameras go off, clicking and flashing. "Our esteemed warrior. What of her?"

Someone else answered, a woman in the middle row. "There's been talk that she's left the Avengers. Comments?"

"I know not what to comment," Thor purposely affects more traditional words, "Except that it is not true. Our Widow is still a functioning member of our team."

"But she has been missing in action for a couple of days, now?" The woman answers swiftly. "She wasn't there in the Avengers' battle in Croatia yesterday. Her disappearance is conveniently linked to an incident in a warehouse district, which is also conveniently classified with no traces on the internet?"

Thor doesn't mean to do it, but his eyes slant towards her in a way that could be taken either as threatening or thoughtful.

The woman blinks and continues in a considerably smaller voice. "All rumors, of course."

Thor lets out a chuckle he does not feel - partly because of the uneasy disturbance he was feeling, and also due to a nasty cut he had received in Croatia yesterday. "I'm afraid I am going to disappoint you with the news I am about to bring." The noise in the room drops. Thor leans forward conspiratorially. "The Widow was absent from our mighty battle yesterday due to nothing but - what my teammates called - a common cold."

The room pauses as one - and then breaks out in laughter.

"Yes, it is very tragic," Thor nods along, mock-serious, to more laughter. His unease grows inside of him. His manipulation of the media might be very convenient sometimes - yet this amount of dumbing down for them displeases him. "It has been going on for a week now. We were very lucky that it has not spread to the rest of us, or else you would have had no one to defend from the robotic squid." More laughter. Thor eyes the crowd, wondering if it is enough to tide them over for now.

Yet suddenly, another male voice rises from the back. "The Black Widow was thwarted by a _cold_? How does that feel, Mr. Odinson, that you were short one member in an emergency to something as simple as that?"

This time, Thor's glare almost silences the room.

"Think what you will, sir, for I have learned that sometimes you will report what you want to," Thor says, leaning forward. "But I will say this. Her absence yesterday was a great misfortune - we lacked her intelligence and skillset that I am not at liberty to discuss. And as for her illness," Thor smiles as best as he can, "I have yet to see anyone come to par the Black Widow's prowess." He waits a beat before adding, "I have not, for example, yet managed to victoriously exit a battle in a skintight suit."

Laughter. Even the man who posed the question is grinning. Thor, however, feels down. It is a cheap tactic, a low way to distract the media, and Thor is almost loath to carry it out. But this is the one thing that will tide the media and turn their attention _away_ from the incident and Natasha's history, and towards something a little more stomachable. Natasha may have to deal with sexist headlines for a while, but at least her past and present are safe.

"Now then!" Thor rises with a clap. "I hope this press conference has been sufficient for your reporting. Please enjoy the high-tea in the next room over, courtesy of the Avengers."

He watches the reporters get up and file out, shaking some hands and offering smiles and well wishes. Then Thor heads out, flying back to the Tower to report back to his team. Once he lands on the roof and walks in, however, Thor holds back.

"JARVIS," Thor asks, "Could you make a call to my Jane, please?"

" _Certainly, Thor. And may I just say: nicely done, today._ "

* * *

"Thought he was going to lose it at that last guy, for a second." Fury says, sounding a little impressed.

Steve watches Thor stand up with a clap, live-stream, on the hologram in Fury's office. He nodded. He'd sent his best for that reason. "That should keep them quiet until we can get ahead of things."

Fury checks the time, all business now. "Five minutes. Now, I'm only saying this because I feel obligated to do so - do not lose your cool in there. I got reports from Hill. Things are not looking up for Romanov."

"What happened?" Steve hadn't had time to update himself with Clint, having been stuck here waiting on a meeting with the World Security Council.

"They're doubting the scenario. Think you're not giving them the story straight."

Steve bristles. "They got the report from an agent on-site."

"Romanov's allegiance is in question." Fury hesitates briefly. "As well as Barton's."

Steve snaps."Why is this on Barton now?"

"This is exactly what I'm talking about. You're high strung and defensive as hell." Fury holds up a hand when Steve opens his mouth. "Look, I'm trying to help your case. The amount of overprotectiveness the Avengers are currently exhibiting will _not_ help Natasha. It creates suspicion. What with Barton mouthing off, Thor using an illness cover and all."

Steve lets out a sharp exhale. Fury is right. "I got it," Steve says, "But if they're questioning loyalties, I'm not going to take it quietly."

"Make sure you have your priorities straight, Captain."

"My first priority is Natasha," Steve says firmly. "And then the rest of my team."

Fury eyes him as if he's given up on Steve. "Don't suppose the second part comes in an order?"

Steve gives him a look. "I've got Clint on SHIELD liaison. Thor's got the press settled. Tony is handling the internet and the weapon, and Bruce on medical duty," Steve counts off. "Who has their back, Nick?"

Fury sighs exasperatedly. "You do."

"I'm not going to go in guns blazing if that's what you're talking about," Steve allows a wry smile despite the stressful situation they are all in. "But I have to have our bases covered. We can't do anything if they suddenly decide we're all under suspicion and they have to treat Natasha somewhere else." Steve grinds his teeth, mind rearing in tension at the thought. "Or worse."

Fury sighs again, like he's regretting ever going into this argument. "Fine. You got that." He eyes Steve. "You nervous?"

Steve doesn't know if he is, or if he's supposed to be. He keeps thinking about the induced coma Natasha is in, how recognition and fear had warred with her natural survival instincts when he fought her in that warehouse.

There's a knock on the glass door. Fury's secretary is there, holding the door open. "Director, Captain. The council is on."

Steve gets to his feet, rolling back his shoulders. "I'm ready."

* * *

"I am quite aware of what 'private' means, Mr. Jones," Pepper's heels click sharply on the floor as she breezes through the lab's glass door, phone pressed to her ear. "What I _don't_ know is the exact amount that you want for that warehouse." She listens intently. "Yes. Yes."

Tony's eyes are glued to the holographic screen in front of him as he taps on it with one hand. Several feet away, on a separate table, a small metal weapon lays there. It's picked apart, with Tony throwing a small part of the weapon up and down in his hand as he scrutinizes the screen.

Pepper pauses beside him, her eyes narrowing. "A million? Mr. Jones, we're talking about a _warehouse._ "

Tony looks up, making a face. What an asshole. 1 million for that dingy, empty old warehouse? He saw the place. It's not that great. It's barely fit for more than two days of habitation, which says a lot about that other asshole Gerard for trying to science in that beat up hobo house.

"My amount is final." Pepper says, frowning. Tony knows that frown. It says, _I'm on the losing end of this bargain and I'm thinking of a way to beat your ass_. Probably without the vulgarity. She only lets select people see it, and he's one of those privileged people.

But 1 million is 1 million. Natasha is Natasha. Tony waves a hand at her, even though his pride and ego will probably die for doing this. "Settle it."

Natasha owes him for this. When she finally wakes up, he's gonna kill her. 

Pepper stares at him for a bit.

Then her jaw sets. "Very well, Mr. Jones," she says abruptly. "I will agree to your amount of 1 million - after you allow yourself and your company to be subpoenaed for a thorough investigation of your business. Excuse me?" This is said in a curious, lofty voice. "Well, if Stark Industries are going to fork out a whopping 1 million for a warehouse, we'd need to be sure who we're dealing with don't we?"

Tony wants to kiss her. Pepper's the best. 

"What was that?" Pepper tilts her head. "You'll settle for my original amount? Excellent, thank you, Mr. Jones. Our lawyers will be in contact shortly. You have a wonderful day ahead." She hangs up, puts the phone away, and looks at Tony thoughtfully.

Tony has been on the receiving end of her looks for far too long to be comfortable with _this_ particular look. Hoping to stave off whatever she's putting together in her head, he holds out his arms. "Hug?"

Pepper ignores this and says, "You'd pay a million dollars for a warehouse, but you won't go down to see her?"

Tony grimaces. "So no hug? My arms are starting to ache. Dummy, get over here and help prop my arms up."

Pepper shakes her head, smiling, then she walks into his hug. Tony wraps his arms around her and uses a hand to push away the eagerly approaching Dummy.

"Really, Tony," Pepper continues, pulling away. "Everyone's been to see her, _I've_ been down, I just don't understand why you're avoiding -"

"I'm not avoiding anything," Tony insists, turning back to the holograph. "She's not even awake, she's been sedated -"

"That's not the point, Tony."

"I'll probably just go there and annoy Bruce, what's the point?" He finishes, tapping vaguely at the screen, not that there's anything to be actually tapped at.

There's a pause. "I know you're feeling, um," Pepper struggles with her words briefly, " _Ineffective_ -"

"That's a nice way of saying useless." Tony snorts.

"Ineffective," Pepper presses with a glare, "But this isn't the way to show it. You're doing so much, you're, you're keeping the internet clear of the slightest mention of her name, you're -"

"I'm buying the place shit went down in so we can secure it and make her case stronger is what I'm actually, most usefully, doing." Tony abandons the screen and turns to her. "I'm getting nowhere with this thing. Bruce and I looked at the weapon, it's exactly what it is, its a fluke. I can't reverse-engineer it, I can't do shit to it." He folds his arms across his chest. "So maybe I want to go see her _after_ I get something useful done."

Pepper stares at him, then she turns, laughing all the way to the door. When she turns back around to Tony, who looks surprised and a little disgruntled at the lack of reaction to his monologue, there's a soft look in her eyes.

"Natasha is your friend, Tony," she says, tapping the code so the door slides open. "It's okay to be worried about her." She leaves him with a pensive look in his eyes.

* * *

Bruce's eyes narrow at Natasha's current hour's chart reading before he sighs, a little relieved. Brain scans show activity, and although Bruce can hazard a guess at what her mind must have been concocting, based on his two-day vigil in the medical wing, activity is good as opposed to inactivity, which was the state he'd been forced to keep her in until a day ago. Even if it probably means she's having nightmares. 

He glances into the room she's been stationed in as he passes by it, a habit he's accumulated in just a couple of days. She's still there, still and pale, but Bruce is feeling slightly more hopeful. Her charts read way better than they did yesterday, or even three hours ago. 

He walks into his makeshift office and finds the monitor already on. 

"I'm sorry," Bruce says, "Were you waiting long? I just went to get a cup of tea."

Dr. Helen Cho glances up, putting something away that the video call isn't big enough to show and gives him a smile. " _Not at all, Dr. Banner. How is she?_ "

"There's progress. Better than before," Bruce replies. He holds up the papers in his hands. "I'm sending you her current chart readings." 

Bruce scans the documents before requesting JARVIS to send it to her. The AI confirms it. "Thanks, JARVIS."

" _Not a problem,_ _sir._ " 

This has become a routine for the three of them over the last couple of days. Bruce scans, JARVIS sends it, Helen looks it over and reports back to him. 

Bruce is largely capable of Natasha's medical care - having JARVIS around makes it infinitely easier to look up things if Bruce has any doubts. But Bruce is a professional, and knows that the need to be sure can only be remedied by having a second opinion around - and Helen Cho is one of the best doctors he knows who would also maintain the highest level of discretion. 

" _I agree."_ Dr. Cho is looking over the papers, flipping the read ones aside. " _There's definitely improvement in her cerebellum. Are you planning on taking her off sedation?"_

Isn't that the million dollar question? "We want to be absolutely sure," Bruce says, hiding his displeasure at the fact that  _we_ was mainly SHIELD and the WSC. "That the effects of the weapon has completely left her system before taking her off the drugs."

Helen's brow arches high.  _"Sure you could all handle it._ "

That had been Clint's argument, too. 

"Yes," Bruce agrees, "We could. But its in her best interests to avoid a repeat of the incident. Much of her reputation is already on the line here."

She seems to get it, nodding apologetically. " _Well, she seems to improving steadily. Judging by her scans, she should be fully cleared in a day or two._ "

"You think?" Bruce asks a little hopefully. He'd been thinking the same, but hadn't wanted to confirm anything for the fear of bias. Helen's speculation is a comfort. 

Dr. Cho nods, reading the papers again. " _Perhaps even sooner, if this level of progress keeps up. I notice there's a gap of inactivity between yesterday and today's progress times. She just needs time._ " 

Bruce nods. "Thanks, Dr. Cho. I'll keep you updated."

" _Don't hesitate._ " Her smile is kind as she signs off, the screen going blank. 

Bruce shuffles the papers, filing them away. "JARVIS, can you send a copy of this to Tony, too?"

" _Consider it done, sir._ "

"Thanks."

Bruce heads back to Natasha's room, the door sliding shut behind him. He tries not to think too much of the silence and the mildly upsetting sight of Natasha in deep sleep as he goes about checking her vitals. It's just - strange, this entire situation. Usually Natasha is the one picking up the pieces, executing plans, and it's a little weird having to be on the other side of that.

Satisfied, Bruce steps outside where there's a bunch of chairs grouped around a table, within view of her room. He had set it up the first day, intending to use it keep an eye on Natasha as he worked.

The door slides open and Clint walks in, habitually glancing in the window at Natasha before plopping down in an armchair, nodding at Bruce.

"How is she today?" He asks, gesturing.

"Better." Bruce replies, "How was SHIELD?"

Clint makes a face. "They hate us," Clint says dismissively, "They've just been waiting for a chance to jump in."

"I take it the meeting went horribly?"

Clint makes a so-so gesture with his hand. "Hill had our backs for the most part, and I covered our bases where it was necessary. Beyond that, well, I think that's up to Steve. They're kind of questioning my loyalty, among other things." 

Bruce lets out an incredulous, " _What?_ " 

There's an incredible amount of noise outside, then the door slides open and in walks Tony. 

"And here comes the entire florist shop," he says breezily, heading straight to the window where he stands, just staring for a while. His words don't make much sense until Thor walks in with just about the biggest bouquet of flowers Bruce has seen so far. 

Clint reacts to Tony more than the overflowing daisies and peonies in Thor's hands. "Look who finally decided to show up here."

Tony tears himself away from the window and flips Clint off good-naturedly before settling in one of the armchairs. "Got the reports, Bruce. Looks like we can think about a full recovery this week, huh?"

"Fingers crossed." Bruce deadpans, watching Thor hover the bouquet, trying to decide where to put it. "Maybe on the table?"

"My question is why," Clint says, also watching Thor as he enters Natasha's room and carefully places the flowers on the little beside table. 

"I have the most ill feeling about my conduct at the press conference today," Thor announces heavily, crossing his arms as soon as he comes out.

Bruce grimaces, having watched the live telecast himself. "It's a good misdirection, Thor." 

"Think of the greater good," Tony chimes in. 

"Aye," Thor agrees morosely. "That is why I brought the flowers."

The door slides open yet again. Steve walks in and does a double-take at all of them. Bruce shrugs at him. Usually, it was just Bruce down here, with the rest of them visiting at odd intervals. It's one of the first times they're all here simultaneously. 

"Well, well, well. Look who's late." Tony says disapprovingly.

Steve rolls his eyes, dropping into a chair by the window, glancing inside as he does it. "I was gonna report tonight, when  _everyone's_ present," Steve starts, glancing at Tony pointedly. Tony has the grace to look a little ashamed. "But seeing as everyone's here.."

"The Council?" Clint asks suspiciously. 

"It's good news." Steve leans back. "They've agreed to temporarily leave Natasha in our care. Meaning we don't get harassed about this every half hour." There's exclamations of relief in the room. "The Council also agreed to strike any remarks made about Clint's loyalties and capabilities as it's a highly unnecessary observation compared to this situation." 

Clint sounds a little awed. "No way. What did you do? It's not that easy." 

Steve shrugs. "I might have said something." 

"What about Natasha?" Tony asks furtively.

Steve's eyes return to the window, as do all of them. He lets out a small sigh. "Fury and I said all we could," he says slowly, thoughtfully, "They're agreeing to put their investigation on hold until she wakes up. It doesn't mean much, but it does mean there's less pressure on all of us."

"Well, I have some good news," Bruce says, drawing attention. "She's improving so much better than yesterday. I've actually taken her off morphines, and there's no reaction to that, physically or mentally. Dr. Cho and I think she'll fully recover this week." 

None of them try to mask the relief they feel. Thor lets out a huge sigh. 

"What about the weapon?" Tony asks.

"If we've got nothing on it, maybe just destroy it."

"Nope." Tony shakes his head. "It's exactly what it is. A fluke. I _can_ destroy it - but I think she'd want to take a look for herself, right." 

Clint nods. "She would."

"We've got everything covered," Steve says, "All she has to do is get healthy again."

"Which she will do in record time just to spite everyone," Tony says without bite, glancing at the window. "So don't worry about that." 

* * *

Natasha will wake up a day later with a pounding headache and an ugly taste in her mouth. Her eyes will open to an enormous arrangement of various flowers held together by a red ribbon, and when she turns her head, trying to get up, she will find her body aching and sore all over. In a second, Bruce will race into the room, face lighting up with relief, and he will shine a light into her eyes, saying "It's okay. You're okay, Natasha." His words will bring her more comfort than it should, and she will wonder why, wonder what happened - and then it will all come flooding back to her. 

Before the anger and guilt can seep into her bones, however, there will be commotion outside, and then a group of four men will enter the room with varying expressions of relief and warmth. 

Natasha will listen, through a haze of disbelief and light medication, as they explain, one by one, what had happened in the four days she's been knocked out. She will look down at her hands, feeling a sense of betrayal and guilt by the damage her own body has caused, and promptly be distracted by 5 different people telling her it wasn't her fault. It won't really matter to her, though - rationally, Natasha will recognize that it could have happened to anyone, but she will still mentally calculate the damages done, add this fresh blood and guilt to her ledger. 

And when her blood pressure spikes up, indicating tension, Bruce will gently administer the lightest sleeping dosage he has before touching her shoulder on his way out. Clint will stroke her forehead before he leaves, and Steve will squeeze her hand gently before he, too, leaves. Thor will pat her curls, promising to return with more flowers, and Tony will hover there awkwardly before finally brushing her hand with his lightly then leaving, too. 

And Natasha will fall back into sleep, subconscious readying herself for a mental battle of guilt and a more physical battle with the Council when she wakes up later. And there will be one final, warming thought that Natasha will have before her mind settles for the night:  _they've taken care of everything._

* * *

 


End file.
